


Subtlety

by anubislover



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Flirting, Cultural Differences, F/M, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 06:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13335897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anubislover/pseuds/anubislover
Summary: For an Assassin, signs of affection must be subtle, lest the enemy exploit them. Because of this, when Altair realizes he's fallen for Maria, he shows it through small gestures; slight touches, small kindnesses, and little actions that should make his intentions clear. Yet somehow, Maria seems unresponsive.After an incident with an innkeeper, Altair suddenly realizes a simple truth about his companion; subtlety is useless.





	Subtlety

As the months passed during their travels east, Altair had slowly but surely come to terms with the fact that his feelings towards Maria Thorpe were not platonic. More than just physically beautiful, she had a will of steel, a warrior’s spirit, and fiery temper unlike any other woman he’d ever met. Traits he’d had no idea he’d find so attractive, yet somehow now couldn’t imagine desiring a woman without such fire. Many a night he dreamt of her body entwined with his, worshiping her skin as she cried out his name.

Tempting as such visions may have been, however, he knew better than to let on to his lustful urges. Disciplined, honorable, and well-read, he was not a dog in heat, ready to mount her at a moment’s notice. He knew some men in his position would be foolish enough to try to take advantage of her, traveling alone as they were, but Maria was a woman he admired and respected. Also, he knew if he ever did attempt such a thing, he’d lose his hands and his cock, if he were lucky. These factors, mixed with his normal taciturn nature, meant that openly showing his intentions was quite alien to him.

Assassins were trained in the art of subtlety. A target’s slightest movement could give away vital information. An unconscious wince could indicate a weak point. A tiny smile or a glance away from violence could hint at a soft heart. Irregular breathing he was especially familiar with, as it could mean anything from fear to lust, depending on how he approached.

Thus, despite her never saying a word, thousands of little hints informed him that Maria was just as attracted to him as he was to her.

Her eyes lingered on his chest when he changed his robes, tongue wetting her lips at the light sheen of sweat that covered him from the hot sun. Whenever he regaled her with whatever philosophies he’d read in his books, her eyes would close as if ready to sleep, but the way she’d smile faintly belied that she was enjoying the sound of his voice. Every time they sparred, her pupils would dilate, cheeks flushing with as much desire as exertion. The catch in her breathing whenever he touched her or stood too close was an exceptionally prominent giveaway, often prompting him to linger a half-moment longer than would be considered proper.

No, Maria never said a word, the soldier in her unwilling to be so open, but her body language spoke volumes.

Altair saw no problem with this. Assassins were also trained to keep their emotions under wraps, so small tokens of affections were considered ideal. A brief touch was practically an embrace, and a smile that lasted no longer than a second might as well be a declaration of love.

As such, he’d gone out of his way to display his interest with such gestures. Tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear when the harsh wind dislodged it. Placing his hand on her lower back to guide her as they walked through the crowded streets of a busy market. Offering her the ripest piece of fruit whenever they came across a fig or orange tree. Picking out books he believed might peak her interest in every library they came across.

However, it seemed for every hint that she returned his affections, she gave another that rejected him.

When he touched her, she’d unconsciously lean into it, then pull away as if burned. When he offered her one of his books, a warm smile would touch her face before smoothing out into something more banal and impersonal. She’d thank him for the fruit, but did not seem to take it as a sign of anything beyond companionship. There was no doubt that she’d warmed up to him considerably since their paths had crossed again in Acre, but as the days passed, he began to wonder if his powers of observation were not as good as he’d thought. Had he been wrong? Did she not share his desire? Had he misread her?

Altair simply couldn’t figure it out. Admittedly, his own upbringing had not been the most conventional, with many members of the Brotherhood shunning romantic and familial attachments. So, he set about observing how the villagers they came across showed affection, keen for examples he might follow.

In one village, he witnessed a man take a heavy water jug from his wife, insisting that he shoulder the burden. Inspired, Altair had attempted to take Maria’s satchel from her, much to her annoyance.

“Do you think me some frail waif?” she snorted, slinging the bag over her shoulder. “I was a soldier in the army, remember? I wouldn’t have lasted long had I been unable to carry my own things.”

In the next town, he observed a young man offer his intended a flower, and the girl cooed over its beauty and fragrance, weaving it into her hair and rewarding him with a kiss.

When Altair tried the same technique, even purchasing the flower from the same stall, Maria merely looked at him with confusion.

“What’s this for?”

“I…thought you might like it?” he said uncertainly.

Confused, she took it, giving it a light sniff. A minuscule smile touched her lips, but she did not put it in her hair, instead tucking the stem into a small tear in the front of her cloak. “It’s pretty, but it will wilt within a day. Save your money for lodgings, or those books you love so much.”

A week later, when they arrived at a large city, they ended up in a small skirmish with some guards. The soldiers had made inappropriate comments towards a man’s wife, and when he’d attempted to defend her honor, the men had decided to beat him. The Assassin and former Templar stepped in just in time, chasing the foul guards off. However, his attention was caught by the wife tending to her husband’s injuries, praising him for his bravery.

Desperate, Altair quietly drew one of his throwing knives, using the tip to give himself a shallow cut along his jaw.

“Maria,” he called, tucking the knife back into his belt. “I appear to have been injured. Could you check it for me?”

With a huff, she tilted his chin, inspecting the wound. He noticed her breathing become shallow and her pupils dilate as she stood close to him, and inwardly he preened at the Englishwoman’s obvious sign of attraction.

That feeling was dashed, however, when she roughly wiped at the cut with a scrap of cloth, far from the tender doting the wife was showing her husband. “How’d you even get this? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you just cut yourself shaving. You idiot. Next time a guard has a blade, maybe you should use one of those throwing knives instead of leaping into the fray.”

The constant failures were disheartening, to say the least. Over and over she rebuffed his advances, and as the days went on, he started to distance himself. Perhaps he’d been wrong. She was a woman from a foreign land, and an unconventional one at that, so perhaps signs he’d thought meant attraction were instead merely platonic.

So, despite the heavy heart that came from this realization, he vowed to back off, to restrain himself and treat her no differently from anyone else. After all, they still had a long way to go before they got to India, and if he kept it up, she might think him overstepping his bounds. He would not risk losing her as a traveling companion due to his foolishness, even if it did make his heart ache. Thus, they’d continued their journey, both acutely aware of the sudden stiffness between them, but unable to address it.

It was not until one aggravating night that Altair realized that when it came to Maria, subtlety was useless.

They were attempting to procure a room in a busy inn. The proprietor had been a large, muscular man with a greasy beard, beady eyes, and a foul temper, He’d been less than accommodating, seeming to disapprove not only of the fact that Maria was in trousers (which made Altair silently grateful that she’d had the sense to leave her weapons with the horses), but of the fact that an Englishwoman was traveling with an Arab. Just as Altair was ready to move on and find lodgings elsewhere, Maria did something that stopped him in his tracks.

She began to flirt with the innkeeper.

“Certainly you wouldn’t turn away two weary travelers, would you?” she asked, looking at him from beneath dark lashes, casually opening her cloak so it no longer hid her lean figure. Her tight breeches and tunic might have gotten her some strange looks, but not for the first time, Altair noticed how the fabric unashamedly hugged her body, her long legs and curves almost unconsciously put on display. “It’s been such a long, _hard_ journey, and it would be such a relief to once again feel a bed beneath me.”

“I’ve no interest in accommodating infidels,” the proprietor protested, even as his eyes ogled her curves.

A slow, sensual smile curved her lips, arms crossing beneath her bosom. It appeared unintentional, but Altair could see how the action subtly pushed her breasts higher, drawing both his and the innkeeper’s attention to them. “Our religious beliefs have no bearing on our physical needs. Why, perhaps such a show of kindness, even to one you find so filthy, will be divinely rewarded.”

The man swallowed hard, red rising to his ruddy cheeks. “What about your husband?” he croaked, sparing the intimidating man in white a quick glance.

Using her index finger, she nudged his chin back towards her. “He’s not my husband. Put him in a separate room, if our traveling together is what offends you.” She seemed to consider something, nibbling her rosy bottom lip between her teeth in a manner Altair always found distracting. Gently, she brushed her sand-roughened fingertips against the owner’s bicep. “Though, two rooms would be awfully expensive. I’m not sure we have the money to afford that.”

The innkeeper swallowed heavily, and Altair could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “I understand. Perhaps we could come to some kind of compromise?”

Distinctly uncomfortable, the Assassin finally snapped, “It seems your disdain for sheltering infidels only goes as deep as their purse.”

Maria glared at him, but the innkeeper just shrugged, barely able to take his eyes off the tempting Englishwoman. “I did not approve of a Muslim and a Christian being married, but that is not the case. Besides, while I would not wish to house an infidel under my roof, Allah forbid I throw an unmarried woman out on the street.”

“Then allow us to share a room.”

He finally pulled his eyes off Maria’s curves. “An unmarried man and woman should not share quarters. You will stay in separate rooms, or she may stay and you can find lodgings elsewhere.”

Seeing the situation was getting out of control, Maria stepped between them. “Forgive my companion’s rudeness. He’s tired, and it’s been a long journey. Alas, I fear that we cannot afford two rooms unless you’re willing to lower the price?” she simpered, hip cocked just so, distracting the greasy proprietor from his anger.

Attention once again on the Englishwoman, he murmured. “I’m sure I can think of other ways you could pay.”

Grey eyes became slightly hooded as she leaned in, a triumphant smirk on her lips. “Yes, I’m sure we could come to some sort of agreement.”

Staring at Maria, Altair’s jaw nearly dropped. He knew she was brazen, but to watch her so openly tempt a man simply to get them a room…

Well, it made jealousy burn through his veins like molten metal.

Before she could continue her coy persuasion, the assassin had grabbed her arm, dragging her out of the tavern.

“We’ll find another place to stay,” he growled, ignoring her protests.

Luckily, there was another, if more expensive inn on the other side of town. While it took a normally unacceptable chunk out of their purse, that innkeeper took it happily. It was not until they were alone in the room, settling into separate beds, that Maria allowed herself to voice her irritation.

“Why did you stop me? That inn was much cheaper, and I almost had our rooms. Hell, with the privacy of my own room, I might have been able to bathe properly.”

“I had no interest in watching you degrade yourself further,” he snapped, tugging off his hood. Not even the image of her bathing could cool his irritation. If anything, it made it worse, the idea that the slimy innkeeper might walk in on her while she was defenseless, without him to protect her causing him to grind his teeth. He was half-tempted to head back to the inn and put a blade through the man’s throat.

“Degrade?” she snarled, leaning her sword against the wall. She’d managed to sneak it in with the rest of their luggage. “In case you haven’t noticed, Assassin, the world is a battlefield, and in cases like these, a woman’s body can be just as much a weapon as a blade.”

Tossing his own weapons onto a chair, he refused to look at her. “You were offering yourself to him in exchange for a room. A room separate from mine, leaving you alone and vulnerable even if you did stop short of agreeing to lay with him. What do you think would have happened if we’d stayed there?”

“Alone and vulnerable?” she snapped, eyes blazing. “You’d do well to remember who you’re talking to. And I offered him nothing!”

“Nothing? Then what was that ‘compromise’ you were talking about?” he sneered.

She rolled her eyes as if he were the most idiotic man on the planet, a look he was familiar with from her. “The compromise was for menial work, like chopping wood or cooking. If he thought I’d be willing to pay with my body, that would be his own problem, and by that point, it would have been too late to go back on his offer.”

He snorted, glancing over his shoulder as he stripped off his shirt. “Are you really so obtuse? Whether you’d meant it or not, men see such flirtation as an open invitation. Surely your time in the army has shown you that. Or did de Sable shield you from such advances?”

With a glare, she kicked off her boots and slipped into bed. The sheets were thin and scratchy, and not for the first time she questioned what the devil they’d paid that extra money for. “I was hardly sheltered, and my time in the army taught me how to deal with such men. Had he attempted to take things too far, he’d have met the business end of my blade. And not all men think with their cocks. You’re a good example of that.”

“You think that if you had acted in such a way towards me, I would have refused you?” he asked incredulously.

Wrapping the blankets around herself, she replied, “I could walk in front of you naked and you’d show no reaction.”

Even if it was technically a compliment, he found himself oddly insulted. “Do you think me a eunuch?” he asked, sitting on his cot.

A bit of humor returned to her voice as she rolled over to face him. “I’m sure there are many who can vouch for your manhood. What I mean is that I consider you a good man with morals. Ones that won’t allow you to break your vows.”

Slightly relieved, he stretched out on the bed. “Vows? I’m not actually a monk, Maria. Just as you were not actually my consort.”

This time she laughed, infinitely more relaxed than before. Her time as his prisoner now seemed so long ago, even if it had only been a few months. It was good to be able to joke about it so easily. “I meant your vow to your wives.”

He blanched, unable to respond for nearly a full minute. “Wives?”

“Of course. I’ve heard tell of men in your country having up to ten wives. Surely you must have at least two. You’re a good-looking man, educated, and in a position of power. Women salivate at the chance to ensnare men like you.”

“I’m not married.”

The revelation seemed to genuinely surprise her. “No? Surely there must be someone. What about the concubines in Masyaf’s gardens I’ve heard of? One must have tried to sink her claws into you,” she teased.

“No,” he replied sternly. “There is no one. And if our cultures have one thing in common, it’s that marriage will not stop a man from lusting after a woman.”

“You’re still moral enough to not take advantage of me.”

“While I don’t disagree, what makes you say so?”

Rolling her eyes as if the answer were obvious, she said, “We’ve been traveling alone together for months. Even when I was your prisoner, you never so much as touched me in a way that could be considered sexual, despite having me tied up and at your mercy.”

Altair was suddenly very grateful for his loose trousers, as his mind was quick to supply images of him doing just that, with the added benefit of her loving every moment of it.

“Nor have you acted untoward,” she continued. “In fact, you’ve been nothing short of gentlemanly. You always offer me the ripest figs, find me books from the libraries my gender forbids me to enter, and your touch is always appropriate. I admit, there are times when I find your intense gaze disconcerting, but then I remember you give the same look to every bookseller we come across.”

Despite her playful tone, he detected a hint of sadness in her voice. Cautiously, he asked, “You consider my actions to be nothing more than politeness?”

“I consider your actions to be that of a man who sees me as nothing more than a friend. My time in the army showed that men are not subtle in their interests. Had you lusted after me, you would have made your move by now.”

It took everything he had to keep his jaw from dropping. A friend? She believed he did not notice her luscious curves, her pomegranate red lips, her sensual movements? That his gestures of courtship were nothing but simple acts of kindness, his rare smiles offered to just anyone?

He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or insulted.

Swallowing the declaration of desire that threatened to bubble up from his chest, he merely replied, “I do not act as such to just anyone, Maria. You are…special.”

A small, sad smile came to her lips as her eyelids drooped. “I know, and I’ll treasure our friendship even after we part ways.”

His heart clenched. “You believe we will be parting company soon?”

“I didn’t say that, but eventually you will need to head back to your brothers, and I will once again be on my own.” Laying her head on the pillow, she stifled a yawn. “So I have to keep my skills sharp, whether it be with the sword or my wiles. A woman must do what is necessary to protect herself.”

When he didn’t answer, she apparently decided the conversation had ended. Blowing out the candle, she rolled over, murmuring “Goodnight, Altair,” before her breathing evened, carrying her off to the shores of sleep.

Altair, however, found no such rest. For the next two hours, the Assassin laid awake, turning Maria’s words over and over in his mind. He hadn’t misread her attraction, but she’d misunderstood his intentions. She was so used to the blatant advances of such crude men that she had not recognized his own subtle acts of courtship. The belief that he was married, too, must have forced her to justify his touches and gestures as merely platonic. Did she pull away because she believed that he would eventually leave her, particularly for some imagined wife, and she did not wish to risk a broken heart?

He’d been a fool, forgetting that this was a woman unlike any other, and his conventional methods of flirting were useless.

Maria was a woman of action, preferring to spell things out than dance around words. Had he simply told her how he felt, they could have avoided this whole situation. Now wasn’t the time, but he was determined to make his intentions utterly clear, one way or another.

As he finally drifted off to sleep, a plan began to form in his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if I'm going to make this one go above T, given the sheer amount of smut I write for these two, but we'll see where my muse takes me. Any suggestions on how Altair should show Maria he's hot for her?


End file.
